


31 Haunts

by Madame_Xela



Series: Modern Madness [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 31 day otp challenge, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Fell Winter, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, M/M, Minor Character Death, October challenge, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:11:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4913629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Xela/pseuds/Madame_Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>31 Day Halloween themed challenge featuring my favorite duo to write: Thorin and Bilbo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decorating together MM

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, another project. At least I'm starting this with the first several chapters finished or almost finished.   
> Also! Although this is part of the MM universe, not all chapters will be. Those that are will be marked with an MM next to the chapter title.

Why the stores start preparing for Halloween in July will forever be a mystery to Thorin. It wasn’t like the store’s inventory would vanish if it wasn’t out two and a half months early. It was ridiculous!

Though…the boys _would_ get a kick out of drinking from cups labeled ‘Poison’, so buying a couple for them wasn’t too ridiculous. But if he got the cups he’d have to get the matching plates with skulls and crossbones on them (because god forbid they had mismatched _plastic-ware_ at the table! Bilbo would have a damn conniption if the table settings didn’t match); which of course meant that he needed matching placemats, and a center piece, and some cob webs, and…well you get the idea.

Needless to say, Thorin was not happy when he brought home eight bags of Halloween decorations a week before august.

*

September fifteenth was a good day to start decorating for Halloween, Bilbo decided. It wasn’t too early, and it would give the boys plenty of time to enjoy the decorations before they went away for another year. Of course, it helped that Thorin was home to help bit the boys were off with Uncle Bofur doing who-knows-what.

So yes, September fifteenth was a good day.

That is, until Bilbo opened the totes containing their Halloween decorations.

“Thorin?” He called, getting a muffled response from the office in return. “Since when did we have six boxes of Halloween decorations?”

His husband let out a strangled sound in the other room. Well…that was interesting. “Thorin?”

“I-uh-may have gone shopping.” _Clearly_. Decorations don’t multiply on their own.

“When?”

“…At the end of July.” Bilbo couldn’t help it, he laughed.

“Did you leave anything in the store?”

Thorin comes into the room flanked by Myrtle and Minty. “Perhaps a streamer or two…I think I gave the cashier a heart attack when I showed up with their entire Halloween inventory.”

With another laugh, the honey-haired man hands him the nearest tote (conveniently with all the more difficult decorations to put up like the lights and the fake spiders and the outdoor decorations. But Thorin didn’t need to know that). “Well, we’re going to have to work fast if we’re going to have the house decorated by the time the boys come home.”

His husband salutes him before taking his assigned tote and marching off.

It takes them the better half of the day to put out all of the decorations. Their table is set with ‘Poison’ cups and plates over a spider web themed tablecloth. At the center was a tray of Jack-O-Lanterns (three total) with multicolored LED lights inside. Along the walls were silly little signs that said typical Halloween things like ‘Boo’ and ‘Trick or Treat’; little ghosts and spiders poked out from behind picture frames; and a few more Jack-O-lanterns and witches and skeletons stood in various places around the house (and Good Lord, why would Thorin get ones what made noise when they had three young boys? Did he not know their kids?!).  

What they may have gone overboard on was the cobwebs-which was completely Thorin’s fault. ‘I bought the cobwebs and I’m going to use them!’ That was how they had cobwebs decorating the door…and the hutch that held Bilbo’s good china…and the book shelves…and Myrtle and Minty’s fur (that’s what you get when you leave the bag on the floor Thorin)…and the doors to the boys’ rooms…and the dining room chandelier…and…well you get the idea.  

The two stood by their front door, proudly looking over their work. “I think we did a good job!” Bilbo said with a grin.

“Take some pictures now because once the boys get home it won’t be as charming.” Thorin replied, making Bilbo snort.

“Are you insinuating that our boys are little terrors?” The look he received sent him into peals of laughter.

*

The boys had come home shortly after the sun had set, and what better way to say ‘Welcome Home my Darling Boys’ was there than blinking eyes in the bushes, tombstones across the lawn, a skeleton hanging from the tree, and an overabundance of cobwebs?

Two year old Frodo cried (Bofur promised to never ever let their parents be alone again, and he had the biggest grin on his face as he spoke). Fíli and Kíli thought it was brilliant! They ran to the skeleton and tried jumping up to hit it, and Kíli somehow managed to wrap enough cobwebs around his ankles so that he fell over.

So…job well done?


	2. Telling scary stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I've been sick for the last few days

Sometime, days after the reveal of Thorin’s tragic backstory, the company stopped to camp in a clearing. The surrounding trees flickered _just_ _so_ from the light of the fire and created these wonderful shadows that had set the mood for the evening.

When Bilbo thinks back on it, he’s not quite sure who it is that suggests telling stories. The only thing he can really remember about the beginning of the awful event is that the dwarfs all fought over the stories. This one is too soppy. That one’s too bloody. GLOIN WE’VE HEARD THIS STORY EIGHTEEN TIMES THIS _WEEK_.

Basically, the dwarfs wanted something _new_. And how newer could one get than their ‘still-a-stranger-and-not-quite-part-of-the-company’ Burglar, Bilbo?

“Come on Mister Boggins, just one story!”

“No Kíli. I’m in no mood for stories tonight-and for the last time it’s _Baggins_.”

“It’s okay Master Baggins, not everyone is good at telling scary stories.”

“I beg your pardon-!”

“I bet the lad doesn’t even know any stories.”

“Now see here-”

“Look at him, he’s a gentlefolk! The scariest thing he’s probably ever suffered is a burned pie-”

“-That’s quite enough! You lot want a story? _Fine_! Sit down and I’ll tell you a story.” Amazingly, twelve of the thirteen dwarrow sat down and looked at him (Thorin was already relaxing with his pipe and the hobbit wasn’t sure if he cared enough to pay attention to his story). “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit-”

“Oh Mahal, if this story is about food and flowers I’ll-”

“-You’ll never find out what happened because if I am interrupted once more I will not finish it.” That shut the dwarfs up. “Now then…it wasn’t a nasty, dirty, wet hole filled with worms and oozy smells. This was a hobbit hole and that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home.

“The lad was a well-to-do faunt. A Baggins, though he had far too much of his mother’s Tookishness running through his blood to be truly respectable. Not long after his thirtieth birthday-three years before his coming of age-he stepped out of his smial and set out for an ‘adventure’. The ground was cold, and the grass crunched unpleasantly between his toes. He should have been more worried, but the lad was too focused on his walk through the woods, and the lunch his mother had packed for him.

“Less than a week later the green hills of his homeland were nothing more than fluffy, white, snowy banks. Winter came too early. Days that were meant to be spent napping by the Brandywine were spent bundled in knits and furs, chopping tree after tree for firewood with his father. Or salvaging whatever fruits and vegetables they could from the garden. It was not much. Luckily the lad’s mother was a seasoned adventurer and was able to make hearty meals that filled their bellies and warmed their bones with what little they had. Others were not so lucky. Many shire folk did not quite understand how to ration their meals, or they had too many growing faunts and simply _couldn’t_. Before the true months of winter had set in some hobbits had already starved to death. But that was only the beginning of the Shire’s problems.

“First came the cold. It settled one night and never seemed to leave. Biting flesh, freezing waters…the lad’s parents moved them all into the sitting room to save firewood. His father nailed blankets around the doorway and windows to keep in the precious heat, though it did little good. A permanent chill had settled upon them. One that couldn’t be cured by one good cup of tea or a hot bath.

“Next came the Sickness. No one knows where the Sickness first started, but once the first hobbit contracted it, it spread like wildfire. Hobbits from all across the Shire were catching the disease, and once they did, they did not have long to live. But it seemed that luck was still not on the Hobbits side for just when it seemed that things couldn’t possibly get worse the Horn of Buckland rang-”

“Of _course_ it did!”

“Shut your trap, I want to hear the end of the story!”

“But it’s ridiculous-”

Bilbo stood up, stretching until his back gave a satisfying pop. “Indeed. Well if my story bothers you so, then I shall simply end it.” The announcement was met with a chorus of disappointed sounds. Perhaps if the dwarrow had been more compassionate to him he would have been more inclined to finish his tale. After all, it wasn’t easy telling this story. Not for him.

*

The next morning, once they had set off on their ponies for the day, he was approached (accosted) by the younger dwarves.

“Master Baggins what is the Horn of Buckland?”

“That is what we use when the Shire is in danger.” The three dwarves sucked in a breath.

“So then in the story…”

“Oh yes there was serious danger. You see the Brandywine River had frozen enough that it was safe to walk on and huge white wolves had crossed it. They terrorized the hobbits-in some cases they even broke into the hobbits’ homes and ate whoever was inside…

“The father of the boy from my story had gotten so scared that he moved his small family into the cellar to keep them safe. But, as you can imagine, the cellar was freezing and it wasn’t long before the faunt’s mother fell ill. The lad and his father spent countless hours talking about her condition and whether or not they could risk a trip to the local healer. Eventually they decided that the lad’s mother was too ill for them to sit and do nothing. And so, on a cold morning they bundled themselves in their warmest clothes and left the safety of their smial.”

By this point he had the attention of most of the dwarves (it was rather hard to tell what Thorin was thinking, so Bilbo wasn’t sure if he was listening or not). He grinned, relieving some of the tension from riding his pony. “The lad’s mother had been an avid adventurer in her youth and owned a sword and a handful of daggers for protection-quite unheard of and scandalous for your average hobbit, but the lad and his father couldn’t have been more grateful. The father took the sword while the lad took three daggers and strapped them to his belt.

“It was eerily silent outside; not even the wind that carried the falling snow was enough to break it. As their feet crunched into the snow the two could not help but feel unnerved. They did not speak, nor breathe to loudly in fear of attracting any more attention to themselves. The wind bit at their noses and froze their toes; snowflakes stuck to their eyelashes and clothing. Step by step they moved away from their beloved home and step by step they found themselves feeling more lost and vulnerable than they had ever felt before.

“And yet by some miracle they found themselves at the home of the local healer. They offered a large sum of money and food for something to help the lad’s mother. After hours of begging and pleading the healer caved and gave them a small amount of herbs and salves for their trouble. Their hearts were light and their spirits high as they left the healer’s. Not even the disturbing silence of the winter storm was enough to dampen their cheer. But in the shadows there lurked a darkness that was waiting to strike.

“The first thing they heard was howl from within the tree line. It was unlike anything they had ever heard before, deep and menacing…the hobbits looked at one another and took off as fast as their feet could carry them. The next thing they heard was several feet crunching against the snow. The lad risked a glance behind them and immediately wished that he hadn’t. Behind them, approaching at an alarming rate, were two white wolves-easily taller than himself and his father. He ran a little faster.

“’ _Don’t look back, my boy._ ’ His father said. ‘ _Just keep running._ ’ As if the lad wasn’t doing that already!”

Bombur started handing out dried meat and some cheese and bread for their lunch-had Bilbo been talking for that long? Well, the dwarves were certainly not complaining. Fíli and Kíli begged him to continue the story while they ate, but Bilbo told them that he would do no such thing. “This isn’t a story to be told over a meal, my lad. As soon as I finish I will continue.”

If he took his time eating his lunch…well the dwarves didn’t need to know that.

“Now…where was I? Oh yes…The boy and his father had almost made it home-in fact they could see their bright door through the snowfall! They were going to make it and the lad’s mother was going to get better! They would survive this awful winter!

“Then one of the wolves jumped and landed on the lad’s father, knocking his mother’s sword to the ground. The lad stopped to help his father but the wolf had already locked its jaws around his shoulder. He yelled for his son to go to safety but the boy did not. Instead he turned to the second wolf and threw one of his mother’s daggers at it. It missed. He threw the second dagger and by some sheer amount of dumb luck it hit the wolf’s chest, but didn’t sink in deep enough to kill it. The lad fingered the last dagger, praying to the Valar for his aim to not fail.

“The last dagger landed in the wolf’s eye. The creature was so shocked that it stumbled to the ground and the dagger in its chest plunged deeper until it pierced its heart. The lad did not take too much time to revel in his victory though, for he still needed to best the beast on his father. He grabbed his mother’s sword and with a surprising amount of speed he buried it in the wolf’s neck.

“But even though the lad had killed the two wolves he was too late to save his father. Warm, red blood stained the white snow. It was sickening, seeing his father so broken and mangled. The lad fell to his knees by his father’s head and wept. With the last of his strength, the lad’s father patted his knee as he normally did and told him not to weep, because his son was stronger and braver than any other hobbit-just like his mother. He told the lad that he loved him and his mother very much but the lad needed to leave to give his mother her medicine, otherwise the father’s death would be for naught. The Lad didn’t want to leave his father to die alone, and yet he needn’t have worried for his father did not draw breath anymore.”

Bilbo took a shuddering breath before giving the dwarves a charming (but watery) smile. “We have the Horn of Buckland for a reason: To help keep us safe. We are supposed to be obedient and stay locked away in our homes until the danger passes, and so parents tell this story to their children as a warning.”

“Well, I thought that the hobbits did no wrong! They were very brave to risk their lives for the lad’s mother!” Ori said. Many of the dwarves around him nodded or made a noise of agreement.

“I agree with you, unfortunately that does not change the fact most hobbits thought this entire unrespectable. In fact, had the lad’s father not been the head of his family he would have been shamed and slandered until his name meant nothing.”

“Hobbits are strange.”

Bilbo couldn’t agree more.   

*

Well after the rest of the company had fallen asleep Bilbo stayed up and gazed at the fire. He was enjoying his solitude until Thorin-who had been on first watch-sat next to him. If Bilbo had energy left in his tired body he would have jumped in shock. The King had hardly glanced at him during their journey what on earth was he doing sitting next to him?

“You never finished your tale, Master Baggins.” The King said softly.

Bilbo blinked. Certainly he had heard wrong. “Pardon? Are you talking about my story from this morning? I’m sorry to say Master Oakenshield, but my story was finished after the death of the father.”

Thorin took a long puff from his pipe. “And yet you never told us the fate of your mother.” He offered the pipe to the hobbit who took it gratefully.

 _Your mother_. Not ‘The mother’. So Thorin had figured it out. With a sigh, Bilbo picked at the hem of his waistcoat. “I brought her the medicine, but she never fully recovered. The loss of my father…it was too much for her to bear. She managed to hold onto life long enough to see my coming of age and then one morning I woke and she did not. I tried not to be too sad but…”

“She was your mother.” Thorin replied in an understanding tone.

“Yes. When…when did you lose your mother?”

The king sighed. “It was not long after Erebor fell. My mother had three children in the span of twenty years and her body was never really the same. When we were forced into exile it was too much for her body to handle.”

The duo sat in silence for a long while, staring at the fire and sharing the pipe between them, until Bilbo placed a hand on the King’s broad shoulder. “I am very sorry for your loss.” Thorin nodded.

“And I yours.”

Perhaps with this new understanding between them things would be different.       


	3. Gorging on Candy (MM)

When one has three children keeping sweets and candy a secret is a very difficult task. That isn’t to say that it’s impossible, because it isn’t. Bilbo and Thorin learned long ago that keeping candy in the kitchen was practically an invitation to taking it. It didn’t matter if the candy was hidden in the most secret place in the kitchen; the boys had a sixth sense and would find it without fail.

So once it became obvious (after several tummy aches and ruined bowls) that the kitchen was a big ‘NO’, the adults had to think of a new hiding spot.

Naturally they chose the office. One of Bilbo’s desk drawers had a secret bottom (yes, it was that bad that they needed to hide the candy in secret compartments) that was strategically filled with sweets so that there was no extra space. The boys were none the wiser.

And every once in a while, once the boys were safely tucked into bed, Bilbo would grab a handful of candy and he and Thorin would recline in the living room, feeding each other piece after piece until their teeth ached and their stomachs churned.

That is, of course, until the boys found the secret drawer.


	4. Werewolves

The Shire was an impossible place. Not for its abundance of rolling green hills and crops, or the weather that seemed to always be pleasant. No, it was impossible due to the lack of anything bad really happening-excluding natural disasters. Even the eldest hobbit could count on one hand the amount of times the Shire was attacked or invaded with mild success.

Why? How could such peaceful folk live without fear of attacks from the big folk? Well for starters there were the rangers that protected the borders of the Shire. Only…they weren’t protecting the _hobbits_. They were protecting everyone else.

That is not to say that the Rangers didn’t like the hobbits because that was simply not true! They adored the smallfolk who were generous to them in many aspects; hospitality, kindness, money, and food. But hobbits were...extremely territorial and did not take kindly to ill intended strangers. Many of the foolish men who decided to brave the rolling hills of the Shire found themselves in…less than pleasant circumstances.

*

Bilbo had never killed an Orc before, but hey there was a first time for everything, right? He had barely even blinked before shedding his Hobbit skin and running down the trunk of the fallen tree. He launched his lupine body over the roots and the fallen king and clamped his jaws around the neck of the Orc who had been trying to kill Thorin.

Note to self: Orc blood is vile. It was more metallic than the blood of Men and almost as thick as honey. Gross. But he would gladly kill another Orc if it kept his dwarves safe.

So he did.

What the dwarves did not understand about Bilbo was that he did not need a weapon because he _was_ a weapon. He was quick and agile on all fours with teeth like razors and a jaw with the force of a Warhammer. What use did he have for his tiny letter opener when he had his teeth?

One by one he obliterated Azog’s troupe until it was just the Pale orc and his warg left. He could stomach a little more Orc blood…

*

Even after the eagles had dropped them off at the Carrock Bilbo was still spitting out Orc blood (oh my god, was that a chunk of Azog’s flesh?!). If it hadn’t been for his enhanced hearing, he probably would have remained oblivious to Thorin waking.

“The Halfling?” Bilbo’s ears twitched. Really! He saved that pompous ass’s life and he calls him Halfling? “You! Did I not say that you were a burden, that you had no place amongst us?” Bilbo bristled. This was seriously happening! He was getting yelled at for saving Thorin’s life and-whoa why were there arms wrapped around him? “I have never been so wrong in all my life.”

This was…nice. Confusing as hell, but nice. Bilbo barely had time to wrap his arms around the dwarf’s middle before they were pulling apart.

“Why did you not say that you had such abilities before?”

Bilbo gave him a flat look. “And when would such an opportunity have been available?” At that, Thorin gave him a sheepish smile.

“I am so sorry I doubted you.”

“Uncle…” Fíli spoke up, giving Bilbo a wicked grin. “Not only did Bilbo save your life, but he killed every last Orc and warg that was present-including Azog.”

When those blue eyes turn back to him he is stared at in a way that makes him feel like a precious jewel. His cheeks flush red. “Well…I could hardly let them go off and torment other unsuspecting travelers, could I?”

“First you saved my life…then you killed the bane of my existence…Master Baggins you truly are an amazing creature.”

What happened next could have been the result of a stressful twenty four hours (nearly dying can be pretty stressful, after all), or it could have been that Thorin had lost too much blood and as such, was not himself. Whatever the reason, Bilbo was glad it happened.

Thorin kissed him.

Thorin, King Under the Mountain and Biggest Grump You’ll Ever Meet, kissed little Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.

Well…this was certainly panning out to be quite the unexpected journey indeed!    


	5. Dealing with Trick or Treaters (MM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All caught up now! Yes!

“Trick or Treat!”

It was their first Halloween in their house, and Bilbo had gone and bought his weight in candy the week before. Extreme? Maybe, but the delighted looks on the children’s faces when he handed out handfuls of candy rather than pieces made it worth it.

To be honest though, he had another reason for giving out handfuls of candy. It was an apology…or a reward depending how one looked at it. For on the lawn, on two cobweb covered chairs, sat two frightening figures. One wore a hockey mask and a large coat with a (fake) chainsaw residing in his lap. The other was ‘decaying’, wear bloodstained and tattered clothes.

They were frightening enough just sitting there on the lawn, but every so often ( _never_ when there were young children) they would jump up-one at a time or together. It varied really.

Frerin and Thorin took way too much pleasure in scaring the neighbors. But it was all in good fun. Belle and Hamfast Gamgee from down the street had grinned when they walked up to the door and joked that they should start their own haunted house! (Bilbo really didn’t want to give Frerin and Thorin any more ideas, thank you very much!)

So yes, any child, teen, or adult who braved the two figures on the grass and made it to the door would be getting a large sum of candy for their troubles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments I've received so far are awesome! And don't worry, there will be plenty more fluffy chapters involving the boys!


	6. Ghost Walk...kind of

Erebor was very haunted, in Bilbo’s opinion. How could it not be? So many people died horrible deaths in these halls. So much pain.

Despite what his husband said, Bilbo fully believed that these halls held ghost. There was something…eerie about it all-like someone was watching them. Even as he and Thorin walked side-by-side to oversee the restoration he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling.

Architects and other workers stopped them every so often and kept Thorin for conversations so long that the Consort just walked off. That was when he found her.

She was an older dwarf with the long braids of her dark beard pulled up and braided into the single braid at her back. She had sickly pale skin, opulent gray clothing, and very sad, very familiar eyes. But it was the circlet around her head that proved Bilbo’s suspicions. The thin braid of mithril that held several small diamonds and sapphires.

The same one that rested above Bilbo’s brow.

_“It was my mother’s.” Thorin told him, gazing at the circlet in a mixture of sadness and adoration. “She would have adored you and were she here I believe she’d gift this to you herself.”_

Bilbo bowed his head in respect to his mother in-law. “My Lady.”

She bowed back. “Lord Consort. It is not yet safe for you to be wandering alone down here.”

“As I am well aware, but your son was being stopped every other step and I felt far too crowed.”

Here the Princess gives him a small smile. “It is you I have to thank for my family being here at all. There are not many who would face a dragon and then steal from a gold-sick King.” She does not give him time to respond as she moves to another topic at an alarming speed. Not that he really blames her. If he was dead for a century, he’d be eager for new information too. “But tell me…The fact that it is Thorin who is King is proof enough that my husband has gone to the Maker’s Halls. Yet only my eldest, my youngest, and my two grandsons who I did not know existed have returned to Erebor. Where is my second son? My Frerin?”

How does one tell a mother that their child is gone? Had been gone for over a century? He couldn’t lie to her, but he wasn’t sure if it should be said delicately or not. Well…if she was anything like her children she would want the honest truth, no matter how much it hurt.

“Not long after the fall of Erebor, Thror tried reclaiming Moria. He ordered everyone able to hold a weapon to fight and Frerin…” _Died_. Died young, too young.

Thorin and Dís rarely spoke of their brother. Though it had been well over a century since his passing, the pain was still fresh. Frerin shouldn’t have been allowed to fight-Thráin and Thorin had fought tooth and nail to keep him safe but the orcs were too many.

The Princess closed her eyes in grief. “When I get my hands on that man...” Her eyes opened and she gave him a sad smile. And oh, did she look so much like Thorin! “My poor Frerin’s been alone long enough. Take care of the rest of my family Bilbo Baggins, Consort of Erebor.”

“I will.” He promised.

And just like that, she gave him a radiant smile and vanished.

His husband and guards find him not long after, ushering him to continue their walk. Bilbo idly wonders who else he will meet along the way.   


	7. Zombies MM

Bofur was on babysitting probation for the next month. Seriously, who lets three young boys (ages eight, six, and four) watch a fucking _zombie_ movie? Granted, he had been making the boys lunch and Kíli said that the picture just looked so cool! And Bofur had been a right mess when the boys came screaming into the kitchen…

(So really Thorin, probation was a bit extreme.)

Bilbo had frowned when he heard the story. He looked over at his boys, all of which were staring at their shoes, and demanded to know who thought that movie was a good idea. Kíli raised his hands and oh gosh was he sorry Daddy, but Uncle Bo was just taking so long in making lunch and they wanted to watch a Halloween movie! That was all, honest!

‘That was all’ was not going to stop them from screaming as they passed a graveyard on their way home. ‘That was all’ was not going to excuse the extra hour and a half bedtime took or the numerous nightlights in their bedrooms for _months_. ‘That was all’ was not going to stop the weeks of nightmares the three boys had (“Daddy they’re gonna get me!” “Fight them Papa! Make your grumpy face!” “Can I sleep in here with you?”).

By the end of the month, Bilbo and Thorin hated zombies almost as much as their children did.  


End file.
